Morning arrived like a reluctant guest. The city streets were already alive with the hum of engines, footsteps, and distant shouts. Reeve had chosen to walk today, as the metro had grown unbearably crowded. The slow pace gave him time to observe, to think, to plan.
College loomed ahead, tall and imposing. Its old stone walls carried whispers of ambition, gossip, and competition. Reeve stepped inside, slinging his bag over his shoulder, a smile plastered on his face.
"Hey, Reeve!" called a cheerful voice.
Reeve turned, clueless as always. "Uhm… hi?"
"You ready for the exam today?"
He shrugged, casually. "I guess… maybe."
It was the truth. Not that he was unprepared—he had learned to manipulate, bribe, and shortcut his way through academics—but pretending cluelessness was far easier than explaining effort. People were too quick to underestimate the silent ones.
In class, the professor droned on about political systems, governance, and societal corruption. Reeve doodled absentmindedly in his notebook, sketches of swords, towers, and abstract patterns forming in the margins.
The world is a game of influence, he thought. Every person is a pawn. Every law, a tool. Every friendship, a currency.
His eyes scanned the room. Classmates whispered answers, shared notes, and tried desperately to impress the professor. But Reeve… did nothing. Or so it seemed.
After the test, the results came in. Low marks. A quiet, almost laughable failure.
"Talking with someone is useless," he muttered under his breath as he gathered his belongings. People lie. People cheat. And even when they try to help, it's just noise.
Yet beneath that casual demeanor, he already knew what to do next. Knowledge wasn't about studying harder—it was about understanding the system, predicting outcomes, and exploiting weaknesses.
After college, he wandered the streets, heading home. The city around him was a web of invisible chains: political favors, bribes, hidden debts, corporate manipulation. Every billboard, every poster, every official announcement whispered the same truth: control is everything.
Reeve crossed a busy intersection, eyes scanning. People hurried past, too blind to notice the subtle signs of greed, corruption, or opportunity.
Back in his apartment, he dropped his bag and exhaled. Time to earn his living.
Freelance work waited—data entry, small errands, odd jobs. Each task was tedious but profitable. Every coin gained was another step closer to independence, another brick in the wall of his silent empire.
He paused in the middle of typing a contract, staring at the ceiling. One day… I won't just play the system. I'll own it. Every law, every loophole, every weak link… mine to manipulate.
Evening came. Hunger gnawed at him, but he ignored it, engrossed in a novel he had just bought at a secondhand shop. The pages were yellowed, the ink faint, but the story captivated him.
It was about a boy in another world, struggling to survive, mastering powers beyond imagination. The boy manipulated allies and enemies alike, learning the balance of trust and betrayal, power and restraint.
Reeve's lips curved. This… is the kind of thinking people call impossible.
He read deep into the night, devouring every lesson, every strategy, every philosophical hint. His mind absorbed not just the story, but the essence of control, power, and subtle influence.
Hours passed, and the city outside dimmed under a blanket of fog. Reeve closed the book, his heart racing—not from excitement, but anticipation.
Somewhere, in a realm unseen, fate had begun to stir.
Someone—or something—had noticed the quiet, calculating boy who pretended to be clueless.
And the world he knew… was about to change.
He leaned back in his chair, glancing at the window. A single streetlight flickered, and for a moment, he thought he saw a shadow moving against the light, almost human, almost unreal.
Reeve blinked.
Nothing.
A soft smile crept across his face. Good. Let them watch. Let them underestimate me.
Yet in the depths of his mind, a faint shiver ran through him. Something, far beyond his comprehension, was waiting for the right moment.
The game had already begun, and he hadn't even left his city yet.